


you don't need tricks, you don't need treats (you don't need me)

by oncewewerezombies



Series: Diamonds and Clubs Month [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Femdom, Threesome - F/M/M, bulgeblock, only not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies
Summary: The philosopher Didactylos has summed up an alternative hypothesis as "Things just happen. What the hell."Hogfather -Terry Pratchett
Relationships: Cronus Ampora/Damara Megido/Eridan Ampora
Series: Diamonds and Clubs Month [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478099
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	you don't need tricks, you don't need treats (you don't need me)

**Author's Note:**

> September 8-14 - Announcements

"I'm sitting ashen on these _baka_ fishfuckers," you announce, and you enjoy the chaos that your announcement drops into the situation like you might enjoy a fine wine. You move in between your two boys, hooking one arm around Eridan's neck and one around Cronus' while you show your teeth in a vicious smile. You got your two fish and ain't no fucker out here that's gonna part the three of you.

Your maw aches with the sting of salt, your sniffnode closed up around the scent of it. You know where you belong, you know your split second in time where you're going to slide between the moments and here it motherfucking _is_. You feel your lip curl in a sneer, and you wallow in the chaos that your announcement causes in the trolls and humans in front of you. Mostly the humans look confused, but the trolls are in uproar.

"Fuckers think I kidding," you scoff into Cronus' ear, and you enjoy his low chuckle, feeling his arm come around to rest around your waist. And his hand on your ass, but you know him, you expected it. Eridan's arm circles your waist above his signmate's, and you enjoy the feel of being sandwiched between the cold salt of the deep seas. They're both lean, although Cronus has broader shoulders. Well muscled. Kind of hot. Pretty sexy. The problem is that they're just so fucking dumb it makes you want to puke all over their nice clean shoes. Instead, you have channelled that deep gut-roiling nausea into gripping the delicate ashen reins of control, keeping them both from killing each other.

You know you're probably meant to keep them from fucking each other too, but why in all the hundred hells _would_ you?

They're so pretty when they're bulgedeep in each other's nook. And you're just enough of a depraved bitch to want to see it; and more, to get between it.

"Then they're dumber than I could've thought," Eridan sneers, and you watch him fondly as he tosses his head arrogantly. Just like the little skyhorse-raised grubling he is. What a pretty boy - how stupid a boy. But you couldn't let him out from under your gaze all the same. He's yours. Cronus is yours. And you belong to them, in the beautiful way of the snake that swallows its tail and has no ending, no beginning. An endless creature.

Hope is something you'd understood once. You'd hoped for so many things, you'd wished with the bloody agony of all your youth, all the pity in your pusher. Wanting and waiting is what pity had left you to be the thing you are now. Hate had been kinder. Hate had been more steady. Hating Cronus, hating Eridan, knowing them for the fools they were and knowing how you could take them apart - ah. It was a blessing. It was something you never had thought to find. You've shed your previous encumbrances like ash, rising to the challenge of sitting in clubs on these two salty bitches like some kinda fucking phoenix. You'd always known you'd had some kind of Yōkai in your ancestry, and this whole situation has proven it. You are a motherfucking _monster_ , and you _love_ it.

Once you had been a blushing, sakura-blossomed maiden. Once you had been softer than you are now. But you are far - far - far beyond that now. Your heart is salt, your breath is sorrow and rage. You remember what it is to have hope, and you resent both of the motherfuckers on your arms the more for it. The only thing you can feel beneath your feet is time.

And right now, you can feel the arms of both your club against your waist. Cronus, muscled and lean. Eridan, not weaker but less strenuously obvious than Cronus. Both of them cool, something like the dead. You catch your breath and bare your teeth, feeling the surprise and shock spreading out between you like something that could shatter the world and loving that feeling. The feel of the shredder, like it could destroy you - them - everything.

It's so refreshing.

You deliberately don't look at Rufioh - or Horuss - or any troll any three of you would have slot into their quadrants, if you'd have had your druthers beyond the yawning introllish calling of Those Who Belong In The Outer Rings. In fact, you gain the limpid gaze of the younger Lalonde bitch and feel a certain sort of thrill as your oculars meet hers. Some kind of door locking closed behind you. But it's not a door you'll despise, it's close to what you are, what your two boys are - so you let her close it. Purple-eyed, dimension dweller-flirting bitch. Still. She's closer to you than others are, even if they share your understanding of Time. She's not the most antagonistic person you could have chosen.

There are worse.

You widen your stance like you expect a blow, and grip tighter to Cronus and Eridan, until Cronus hisses as your fingers dig into his bicep. They are _yours_ and you will never, _never_ let them go.

"Does any _fucker_ want to fight _me_ for their ash? Their club?" you enquire, knowing no one would but at the same time knowing what it would mean to both of them that you'd offered. That you'd found both of them so important, that you'd fight to keep them. Something close to pity, only darker and more antagonistic skips a beat in your breast and you breathe in, feeling the grasper of Cronus cup your ass through your skirt, and Eridan's palm steady on your back. No one answers you, and you ratchet up your grin to disconcerting. Wanting to make sure no one else even envisions the idea of stepping on your turf.

They're yours. You're theirs. It's a circle, end without beginning, and a beginning without ending. It's all you want, and you will kill anyone who dares to break it. Both of the seadwellers on either side of you don't understand what you'd do to keep them, but you can anticipate the long time of learning ahead.

You choose not to offer any other challenge, just keep your arms linked tightly with your two clubleaves and plunge into the melee of the people standing in front of you. While it's not all you've been waiting for, the feeling of riding topsaddle on two seadwellers, so far, _oh_ so far about you, it's enough. Enough to quiet your tongue, enough to give you some sort of peace.

You meet Rose's eye, you meet the gaze of everyone about you and with your two boys on your arms -

You step out, and you do not feel alone.


End file.
